Squack

Squack is the oral progeny of a love-up between a sqwawk and a quack. How such seemingly ill-matched sounds could ever meet, I do not know. Perhaps sqwawk had a cold she needed healing, and found a quack in the phone book. If this was the case, I can imagine her retelling the story at a dinner party. "I was just sat there, feeling ill. He said, say 'AHHH', and of course I could only say 'SQWAWK' - so that was it, love at first sound." Aww, say the assembled guests. That's so tweet.

Well, the sounds of the feathered legions are really very different here. This is not a land of delicate nature and pretty birdsong. Tweet was not a tough enough noise to survive Australia's evolutionary rigours. Even the crow's caw has been hammered into something more caustic. Imagine pressing the last breath of air out of a dying man's chest. AAAR. AAAR. That's something like it. I happened to catch a minute of Home and Away, during which one of the characters uttered the expression "stone the flaming crows!" Having now heard 1232.5 crow noises, I can understand why stones might be considered appropriate. Or perhaps even "high velocity metal alloy insertion techniques", to quote a phrase used in the conservation sector. Bullets, in case you were wondering.

There is also a bird that makes the sound of a car alarm. Or a car alarm that makes the sound of a bird. I still haven't placed the source.

Do Robins sound different? Well, I've started squawking to strangers, but more of that later. I haven't seen any avian Robins, though I'm assured they exist. I have seen lorikeets rainbowing the trees of King's Park. I have seen an elegant parabola of pelicans over Mandurah beach. I've seen the red wattle bird and the honey eater and the galah. I have seen magpies bigger than magpies and burly crows with bandy-legged gait.. My favourite is the willy wagtail, who wiggles his rear every time he lands.

But back to what I sound like. I sound busy. The worms are popping up everywhere, and my beak is wearying from all the gobbling. I started work last week raising money for a charity called Bush Heritage, who buy land and look after it. An area the size of a football oval (aussie rules, not football) is rendered infertile every hour by commercial activities like mining, logging and agriculture. South Western Australia is second only to the Amazon in biodiversity, and already they have lost 90% of the bush. I persuade people I meet to put a dollar a day into saving the world. It's a good job, and it makes me happy.

I'm also working on a couple of lectures for the local uni. I've been asked to talk about games design and writing for games. Quite exciting, but the preparation has been keeping me very busy.

And I had a tryout today for a copywriter role, which seems to involve writing fun things about various products. I think I'd enjoy the challenge, so fingers crossed. And not because my hand needs to wee.

Now I have to fly. The Julie bird will be hungry, so I'll have to peck something nice from the shops.

I must away, but I'll be beak.